Scars
by azkabcn
Summary: [I watched him go, aware of the shaking in my hands. I didn't know how I would cope without him. He had been there since the beginning of my diagnosis. Now he was leaving. He was leaving me by myself. I was sure I was about to dwindle into the darkness without him there to help me.] Slightly AU one-shot.
**This little one-shot of mine has been stuck up in my brain for months now. I just haven't had the chance to let it be free. But then a few weeks ago, I heard the wonderful song 'Scars' by the fabulous James Bay and I thought** _ **lightbulb moment**_ **! The song fit my idea of the fic so much that I just had to tweak bits here and there in my mental draft to make it perfect.**

 **So, whenever you're in need of beautiful music, James Bay is your go-to man. And Scars is your go-to song.**

 **Without further ado, I present to you: Scars (the Johnlock fic)…**

* * *

I stared out of the cab window. My eyes weren't focusing so I was left to my own thoughts.

John was leaving. He was going to the United States for an army training course. I was going to be left alone with only my dark, black thoughts for company. I didn't know if I could survive without my John.

Suddenly, a hand squeezed my own and I was brought out of my stupor.

I turned to John to see a small smile on his face. 'Hey,' he whispered. 'You're gonna be _fine_. I'll only be gone for a month, okay? Just a month.'

'But John,' I sighed. 'A month without you is a month in hell.'

John ran his thumb over my knuckles. 'I know you think you need me to help you cope with your depression,' he told me. 'But I know you can do this. I believe in you, Sherlock.'

I smiled sadly. 'But what if… what if I can't…'

'Then you text me, and I'll help you.'

The cab slowed to a stop and John paid the cabbie before taking his suitcases and getting out. I followed, walking round the back of the cab to his side.

'But how?' I replied. 'When you're there and I'm stuck here.'

We walked into the airport and joined the back of the queue.

'I'll find a way, Sherlock. I'll find a way to help you.'

I reached out and slid my fingers into his. 'I love you,' I told him suddenly.

John smiled at me as we slowly moved further up the queue. 'I love you too.'

* * *

Two hours later, John was finally checked in and was now waiting for his flight to be ready.

We sat side by side as we waited.

'John,' I asked. 'What if I need to… What if I need to use the knife?'

John squeezed my hand. 'Just send me a text,' he answered. 'Call me if you feel like you need to hear my voice. I'll pick up no matter what I'm doing, okay?'

'But what if you can't?'

'Sherlock, darling, stop stressing,' John reminded me. ' _You are going to be okay_.

'And if the worst comes to the worst and you can't get a hold of me, text Lestrade. I told him to fill in for me when you're at your lowest points.'

I sighed. '… Okay.'

The speaker told us that people on John's flight needed to start boarding as they were leaving in the next fifteen minutes.

'Okay then,' John breathed as he stood up.

'I really want to beg you not to go,' I started saying while I stood up with him. 'But I understand that you _need_ to go. I'll be waiting for you in a month.'

He smiled and pulled me into a hug. 'I love you.'

I grinned and hugged him back. 'I love you most,' I replied.

He broke the hug and looked me in the eye. 'Remember: you can do this.'

'I can do this,' I repeated, my voice breaking slightly.

He suddenly grabbed my upturned collar and crashed his lips to mine. I held his waist to keep myself upright as the good kind of burning started up in my chest. Every kiss we had felt like our first kiss three years ago back in John's bedroom in 221b. I loved it and I loved the sparks that went off every time. The kiss started to deepen and I knew alarm bells for _public indecency_ were about to go off in John's head.

Sure enough, in the next second John pulled away, his breath heavy. My fingers twitched; I had to reach for him again but I knew he had to go.

'Go,' I said, my voice hoarse with emotion. I inwardly cursed: what was happening to me?

John smiled and turned.

I watched him go, aware of the shaking in my hands. I didn't know how I would cope without him. He had been there since the beginning of my diagnosis. Now he was leaving. He was leaving me by myself. I was sure I was about to dwindle into the darkness without him there to help me.

I watched him turn the corner, pulling his suitcase behind him. As soon as he disappeared, I turned and faced the way we came. I willed my legs to work and as they slowly moved forwards, I immersed myself in my Mind Palace as a distraction, as a way to forget what just happened.

* * *

Hands paralysed.

Mind hectic.

Heartbeat quick.

Eyes stinging.

Arms tingling.

I had to do it. I had to find the knife.

But I couldn't. My mind was screaming at me to _'FIND THE KNIFE!'_ but my body wouldn't comply.

I sat on the edge of John's bed, clutching one of his old jumpers. I had gone in there to find something that I thought I had left in there but as soon as I entered and his distinct smell hit me in the face, I just couldn't. Not even after two weeks. I couldn't _not_ find the knife. And yet I couldn't at the same time.

Then I remembered.

 _Text John._

I forced myself to reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. I tried, with my shaking hands, to type out a message. I only managed one word.

 **Help. - SH**

Seconds later, my phone vibrated. My nerves calmed a slight fraction after seeing his text but not enough to get my thoughts in order.

 **What is it? - JW**

 **It's back. Badly. - SH**

 **Are you okay? - JW**

I swallowed.

 **No. - SH**

 **I'm gonna text Lestrade, okay? - JW**

 **Why? - SH**

 **He'll take you for a drive. Windows down, music up. Convertible, not police car. - JW**

John sent another text seconds later.

 **I love you. - JW**

I sat staring at my phone, when another message pinged up.

 **You're gonna be okay, Sherlock. I'll be at yours in five. - GL**

Sure enough, five minutes later, Lestrade opened the door to John's room, followed by Mrs Hudson.

'Ready, son?' Lestrade asked, smiling encouragingly.

I pushed myself to my feet, John's jumper slipping from my fingers.

I walked out of John's room, my hands and arms continuing to shake and tingle. We walked outside and I saw Lestrade's car parked on the road.

The convertible, not the police car.

I sat in it, waiting as Lestrade pulled the roof down. I looked up at the dark sky, saw the stars shining in the moonlight. He joined me inside a moment later and turned it on.

'Your pick of the first song, Sherlock.'

I tried to shrug, my body still betraying me. 'I don't care. So long as it's loud and distracting.'

Lestrade smirked and the radio up to full volume. A song I wasn't familiar with blasted out of the speakers, making me jump.

We sped down the road, and I focused on the lyrics of the song.

 _I'm telling you take your shot,_

 _It might be scary._

I'd heard this before.

Molly was singing it in the morgue sometime last month.

 _Hearts are gonna break_

I knew this song.

I knew it.

Right?

And then it clicked.

 _Life of the Party. Shawn Mendes._

I smirked. 'Really, Lestrade. I thought you were better than this.'

'Not me. Molly. She loves this song,' Lestrade replied.

'I know. She sings it everywhere she goes.'

'Everywhere, huh? She keeps telling me she only sings when she's alone.' Lestrade shook his head.

'Yes, well…' My smirk widened. 'I doubt she was aware that she wasn't alone.'

'You crept up on her?'

'I wanted to get something from the morgue. I heard her singing even before I'd opened the door.'

It was then that I'd realised that my hands had stilled. My mind had calmed, my thoughts straightening themselves out on their specific shelves. My pulse had slowed to near-normal. I breathed out, relieved.

'You okay?' Lestrade asked, glancing at me through the corner of his eye.

I took a deep breath. 'Yeah,' I replied. 'I think so.'

'Good.' After a pause, he said, 'I'm glad I could help you, Sherlock. I worry about you.'

'I think most people worry about me,' I joked.

'Yeah, well. You not exactly ordinary, are you?'

I smiled. 'No.'

'Head back?' he suddenly asked.

'Just a bit longer. I like it out here,' I answered.

'We'll keep going for as long as you need to.'

I returned back to Baker Street four hours later, at around half past one in the morning. I walked upstairs straight up to John's bedroom and flopped on his bed.

In a few shorts moments, I was out.

It was the calmest sleep I'd had in weeks.

* * *

 **What did you think? Did you like it? After a month and eight days without Johnlock, I was itching to write this and now you have it! Hope you enjoyed it!**


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